


What The Mornings Hold

by Ineffable_Hannigram



Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cussing, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffable_Hannigram/pseuds/Ineffable_Hannigram
Summary: Nigel turns around and grins when he sees his husband.Well fucking hello, gorgeous. He thinks with a smirk.
Relationships: Le Chiffre/Nigel (Charlie Countryman)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	What The Mornings Hold

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for a friend.  
> I'd also like to thank Sham for providing a scent profile on Nigel ;)

Nigel sits at their den table, relaxing into the low cushioned seat, facing towards the open patio window as the sun begins to rise over the hills. His sleep tousled hair falls limply into his face and as he leans forward, he can feel the pull of scratch mark from last night’s activities stretch, a sleepy, smug smile graces his face at the thought. A steaming cup of coffee is lazily brought up to his lips as his eyes roam over the morning’s paper. _Nothing fucking interesting, as usual._ Nigel thinks, but he can’t find himself to really be bothered. They came here to relax not to cause themselves more trouble than their everyday lives.

He had woken up in bed, Jean wrapped around him his arms and legs thrown over him, but after waking up Nigel couldn’t get back to sleep. So instead he carefully extracts himself from the bed and his husband and left the bedroom. It had since been a couple hours from them, and Nigel had been doing nothing but watching the outside, listening to the wildlife and simply the sounds of the world. _Or some shit like that. God, the bastard was rubbing off on him with his stupid phrases. In reality, Nigel just sat in the silence as fuck all happened._

He places the cup down to turn the newspaper’s page when he hears shuffling behind him. He smiles into his cup. _Sleeping beauty has awoken._

Nigel turns around and grins when he sees his husband.

 _Well fucking hello, gorgeous._ He thinks with a smirk.

Jean is stood in the doorframe that connects the hallway from their bedroom to the kitchen, his usually perfectly slicked back hair is knotted and messy, sticking up in every direction it seems. There’s still drool sticking to the side of his mouth as he raises his hand to sleepily rub at his still closed eyes. The blue robe he wears, Nigel’s robe, is sloppily tied around his trim waist, the neck falling down off his shoulder to reveal his smooth chest and, Nigel smirks, the mass of purpling hickeys and bite marks.

“Good fucking morning, Sunshine” Nigel says as he watches Jean pause in the middle of the room, a pout on his face.

“C’mere.” Nigel sighs, patting his thigh and Jean shuffles over, bare feet silent on the polished floor. He stands besides the chair until the other man gently grabs his hand and pulls Jean into his lap where the man reclines against Nigel’s furred chest. Jean sighs, taking in the smell of cigarettes, sweat, the faint smell of some cheap men’s cologne. _No matter how many time’s he’s tried to get Nigel to change to a more expensive brand._ Although the combination of smells does sound utterly revolting, it’s quite comforting and simply Nigel.

Nigel lets out an offended grunt when the man in occupying his lap takes his coffee out of his hands.

“You won’t fucking like it.” He warns, and it’s true. Jean barely drinks coffee as it is, but he absolutely fucking despises how Nigel take his. So, that is why it’s no fucking surprise when Jean makes a face and pushes the mug away from the both of him; out of Nigel’s reach.

“Oi-“ Nigel’s complaints are cut off when Jean speaks.

“I thought I told you to get rid of that mug, Nigel.” Jean questions, tunring around to straddle Nigel’s lap, facing him. Jean’s arm’s move up to hold onto his husband’s neck, Nigel’s landing around Jean’s waist to support him. He stares into Jean’s eyes as he replys.

“I fucking like it.”

“Well, I don’t. Get rid of it.”

The mug itself it pretty simple. Just white ceramic with a picture on either of sits side. But it’s what the pictures depict that is the problem. One the one side, is from a couple months ago, four to be exact. Nigel had stumbled upon Jean while the man was in the middle of his morning routine. Jean was sat in his crimson robe on the edge of the tub, shaving the small amount of leg hair he had, a beauty mask covering his face. When Jean had seen Nigel pull out his cell phone, he stuck up his middle finger, flipping the man off as Nigel left the room laughing. He huffed when he heard the man shout down the hall.

“Looking fucking gorgeous, babe!” Followed by my laughter. Jean shook his head in disbelief before returning to his routine.

The other, was more explicit. It was taken around a year back. They had been going at it like rabbit for the better half of five hours. By the end of it, Jean was so fucked out that he could hardly move, instead he led panting against the sheet. Stomach a mess, hair slicked back with sweat and his legs splayed open. Nigel had gotten up to get a wet clothe to clean him up, but after hearing the man stop at the foot of his bed and not moved, Jean looks up only to see Nigel grinning while looking at his phone’s screen.

“Nigel!” He remembered shouting and trying to get the phone, Nigel laughing the whole time. They had sex once more after that before collapsing in utter, blissful exhaustion.

Nigel had gotten a parcel that he seemed oddly excited about and that’s when the mug first appeared.

Jean hits Nigel aside the head softly when the man zones out, obviously thinking of the explicit picture.

“Stop thinking about it, you dog.” Jean scolds causing Nigel to smirk.

“But you make such a lovely fucking picture, baby.” Nigel teases

Jean doesn’t warrant him a response, instead choosing to frown at him. But then he smiles, not being able to hide how much he loves this living fleabag of a man. Jean reaches up and pushes the messy bangs out of Nigel’s face and Nigel smiles.

Jean turns around so he can settle back down against Nigel and smiles when he feels Nigel’s arms lock around his waist, chin coming to rest against Jean’s soft hair.

“Nigel?” Jean softly asks.

“Hmm?”

“Keep the mug.” He relents and his heart leaps when he feels Nigel nuzzle against him.

“Thank you, Sunshine” Nigel whispers.


End file.
